


Beer, Potions, and Unwise Notions

by HeyJude19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Potions Accident, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyJude19/pseuds/HeyJude19
Summary: The adverse effects of unknowingly imbibing Babbling Beverage while intoxicated include the urge to chatter incessantly, dizziness, short-term memory loss, and spilling your secrets to a fake version of Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 91
Kudos: 572
Collections: The Dramione Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story Length: Three chapters total, about 13,000 words.  
> Universe: Canon-compliant until epilogue, completely disregards epilogue.  
> Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling; no money is being made from this story.

Hermione burst out confidently (or rather, stumbled inelegantly) into the brisk night air. The doors to the Leaky Cauldron shut behind her with a loud bang. Standing still seemed rather silly (and also, challenging) so she backed against a wall outside the pub and slid down until she could sit in reasonable comfort.

Ginny had told her to stay right outside where she could see her. _Ginny was such a good friend. Good as a sister. Too bad they could not officially be sisters, but that’s life, you know? She and Ron just did not work out and that’s all right, they were ever such good friends still. Friends are important, yes, especially friends like Ginny. She didn’t have a lot of girlfriends, possibly because she had trouble connecting with women her own age, she didn’t know why, it had just always been so._

“Er… all right there Granger?”

From her crouched position, Hermione squinted up at the person addressing her. It then occurred to her that she had been speaking aloud the entire time. How freeing! Her thoughts tumbled out of her mouth and into the ears of the polite questioner standing above her.

Hermione realized the person addressing her was Draco Malfoy. She grinned widely at his puzzled face and then burst into laughter.

“Oh this is just… too much!” she cackled and gasped for air. Malfoy looked down at her helplessly, seeming more confused than before.

“Granger, can you stand? What’s wrong with you?”

Hermione only laughed harder. “Oh this is too good, even for Ginny! I can’t believe she figured out how to have you here for this and so soon! I mean, I only just told her tonight and here you are! I’m sure George is involved somehow.” Hermione leapt to her feet so fast that Draco took a startled step back. Unperturbed, she closed the distance between them and peered into his face, looking for clues.

“Hmm, this is a very good prototype. Too good, in fact. I really never gave Fred and George enough credit when we were younger you know, when they were really quite brilliant together but I have to say George has really cracked it here! The resemblance is uncanny and—”

The doors to the pub opened again. Vaguely, so vague it barely registered with her, Hermione heard a conversation happening around her. The only thing she could truly focus on were the thoughts pouring uninhibited from her own mouth.

“Hermione! There you are!” cried Ginny and tugged on her arm.

_“Hey Malfoy, Harry said you’re free to go.”_

_“Will she be all right?”_

_“Fine, it’s just a heavy dose of Babbling Beverage.”_

_“Ah, that explains a lot.”_

“Ginny! Ginny, Ginny, Ginny, you are unbelievable you are! I cannot believe I confess my deep dark secret to you not hours ago and you go and make this happen!” Hermione gestured at the blond man in front of her. Hermione suddenly staggered, feeling quite dizzy. Two pairs of hands seized her and held her upright.

_“You need to get her home.”_

_“Couldn’t help me, could you? The Aurors set an anti-apparition perimeter all around Diagon Alley hoping to catch whoever did this. I’ll have to walk her across the whole thing and Side-Along her home.”_

_“Fine.”_

Hermione had one arm slung around a rather trim, masculine waist and her other over a pair of feminine shoulders.

“Oh well, this is a rather nice way to be escorted home! Not that I really need an escort, you know, I am a perfectly capable independent woman and—”

_“This is more than Babbling Beverage, she’s off her rocker.”_

_“No kidding. She had a few drinks before the last one was spiked. That’s the working theory of the Aurors anyway.”_

_“Ahh, makes sense. Mixing alcohol with Babbling Beverage leads to this, uh, situation.”_

“—I was always insistent I do things my own way and that’s a funny thing you just said about potions and alcohol! Potions before beer, you’re in the clear! Beer before potions leads to unwise notions! I’ve never personally combined the two of course, the adverse effects are rather—”

_“She won’t get sick, will she?”_

_“Nope, but she’ll kill for a Hangover Potion tomorrow.”_

“—I don’t often go out on weeknights like this, but Ginny absolutely, positively insisted, and then she went ahead and made me tell her the one thing I swore I would never tell anyone, but I just could not hold it in anymore! It takes its toll, you know, keeping secrets and I just had to tell someone that I sort of fancy—”

“Hermione, NO!”

“—Draco Malfoy and she swore she wouldn’t tell a single soul and she didn’t even make fun of me for it and then this copy shows up and I’m so impressed at the amount of magical manipulation needed to render such an accurate imitation—”

_“Oh sweet Merlin, Malfoy, she is going to kill me tomorrow. Why is she spouting off her innermost feelings? I thought Babbling Beverage just made you overly talkative, but she’s acting like they shoved Veritaserum down her throat!”_

_“So she fancies me, huh?”_

_“You would focus on that, pompous git.”_

_“To answer your question, the urge to chatter incessantly obviously comes from the Beverage. However, when you combine a particularly strong batch with alcohol, the drinker will feel inclined to divulge their inner thoughts as they occur because of how their inhibitions have lowered. It’s not truth serum, because she could refuse to truthfully answer questions if she desired, but the compliant feeling that accompanies consuming copious amounts of alcohol coupled with the urge to ramble from the Beverage and you get… this.”_

“—why you never told me, Ginny? Or was this meant to be a fun surprise for me?”

“What are you on about Hermione?”

“This! This Mock Malfoy! Is this a new product of George’s? It’s positively brilliant, but I think some people would use this for nefarious purposes, so I really don’t think it’s wise to spread about the fact that you can create effective body doubles of whomever a person desires—”

“Desire me, do you Granger?” asked Mock Malfoy.

“Hermione, don’t answer that!” cried Real Ginny.

“Oh, absolutely, I mean have you seen Draco Malfoy? His hair color cannot be natural, but I’m sure it is, because it seems to be hereditary, and it positively glows, it’s this really lovely shade of white-blond and looks ever so soft and—“

_“Malfoy, stop, don’t encourage her! She’s going to be completely humiliated tomorrow morning when she remembers saying all this to you.”_

_“She won’t remember, don’t worry.”_

_“I assure you, she will. And when she thinks back on how more mockery came out of your mouth—”_

“Malfoy’s mocking mouth, Malfoy’s mocking mouth,” Hermione sang in a sing-song voice. “Hey! This reminds me of a limerick I just made up!” she asserted with the air of one about to deliver a royal proclamation.

“Malfoy’s mouth is wont to smirk,  
his lips will disdainfully quirk.  
I’d jump him for a ride,  
but it would only ruin my pride,  
so I shall keep to the shadows and lurk.”

A burst of gleeful masculine laughter from her right told her that Made-Up Malfoy was greatly amused. “Oh Granger, you are fun! Why didn’t you ever let on?”

“Excuse you, I’m plenty of fun! You just never bothered to get to know me! Your loss really, I’m quite delightful if I do say so, and Ginny thinks so, don’t you Gin? Speaking of delightful, do you know what fills me with delight? Draco Malfoy’s sartorial choices. I do find it interesting that George has chosen to clothe you in such informal wear, I mean plain slacks and a button-up is positively plebian for Draco Malfoy. Merlin, that man can dress, but I suppose when you have more money than God, you can afford to dress well. He dresses like his father, you know, which actually isn’t a bad thing, and if he had to inherit something from Lucius, then I suppose fashion sense is preferable. Good lord, his father was an evil, awful person and I’m glad Draco Malfoy’s making his own way in the world, but you could not deny that Lucius dressed well. It’s a very good thing Draco keeps his hair short, because he already resembles his father so, and the long hair would just be too much. The short hair suits him too and—“

“Hmm, so you like his hair and how he dresses…” summed up her Simulated Slytherin.

“Yes, those finely tailored robes have so many buttons. So many buttons all the way up his chest and throat and it gives him this sort of refined, restrained look, but I bet it would be ever so much fun to undo those many buttons one by one and—”

“Merlin, Hermione, you are going to seriously regret all this,” bemoaned Guardian Ginny.

“Ginny, come on, his robes look delicious on him! And he wears a fancy kerchief round his neck like some sort of Regency era gentleman and I’d bet an awful lot of gold that it’s made of the finest silk, possibly Acromantula silk, which is banned you know, but anyway it’s very expensive and I would love for him to tear it off his throat and use it to tie my hands above my head and—”

More guffawing from her Pretty Pureblood Prototype and more exasperated sighing from her Good Girlfriend Ginny.

_“Leave her alone, I’m begging you, this isn’t fair to her. She doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”_

_“Relax, Red, I’ve just told you she won’t remember a thing.”_

_“Why won’t she remember?”_

_“Therein lies another convenient side effect of alcohol plus Babbling Beverage. The victim will have no recollection of their time while dosed. Once it’s out of her system, she’ll be fine, but with no memory of this.”_

_“I forgot, you’re the Potions expert or something at the Ministry right?”_

“—Malfoy is the Junior Head of the Potions Department for the entire Ministry and if he succeeds the current Potions Master he’ll be the youngest one in more than 200 years at the age of 26, which is really quite an achievement and speaking of achievements, Ginny you never confessed to pulling this Decoy Draco off the shelves of George’s shop—”

“Decoy Draco? Hermione what are you on about?”

“Well he’s obviously a fake, I mean any witch worth her salt would be able to spot that. I just want to know how he invented him so fast! I mean, Merlin, did George just have this technology lying around waiting to be used? I think—”

_“Stop laughing at her!”_

_“Lighten up Weasley. Come on, don’t you find it slightly amusing that she thinks I’m a product of your brother’s joke shop?”_

“—and you know, I’ve spotted the difference between the real Draco Malfoy and Malfoy Mach-2 here because I’ve observed him for quite a while now and—”

“Oh do tell, Granger, how do you know I’m the fake?”

“Well since you asked, I’ll tell you. Now, they’ve got the physical features down pat. The hair is perfect, but so is his, so now I’m wondering if there was perhaps some element of Polyjuice involved? Yes, that would make sense, because all the physical attributes are spot on. You smell positively delicious, but I’m sure it would be quite simple to figure out what type of cologne the real Malfoy uses and use that on Magical Malfoy here. I’ve never been close enough to smell the real thing for myself, but oh there was this one time in the lift where I was stood next to him and the lift sort of jerked and I was thrown into him for a moment but he backed away so quickly and he was ever so polite about it. Now I’m wondering if I should have fake stumbled into him or something because, Merlin, this Fake-O Malfoy smells divine so I’m sure the genuine article is mouthwatering and—”

“Hermione, please, stop talking,” groaned Genuine Ginny.

“Oh come now Granger, don’t listen to her, we’re just getting started and we’ve got a bit of a ways to walk yet! Do tell, what else do you admire about me? You still haven’t told me how you know I’m the fake.”

“I’m getting to that! As I was telling Ginny here tonight, Malfoy is the Junior Head of the Potions Department. His superior is brilliant but rather lazy and he often delegates more menial tasks to Malfoy like giving the monthly report to all the department heads. Let me tell you, that is my absolute favorite day of work each month—”

“Why’s that Granger? Don’t you find those reports rather dull?”

“Oh Merlin no! He’s very thorough and so articulate and obviously it’s my duty as the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to ensure I attend all his presentations and take excellent notes. As if I would do anything else! But oh goodness, his voice. His voice is pure sin and I—”

“Hermione. Hermione for the love of Merlin, do not keep talking.”

“—I could listen to him for hours. I could listen to Draco Malfoy read Spellman’s Syllabary and it would sound so sexy coming from him. He always leaves time for questions at the end and I always make sure to ask one even though I absolutely don’t need to. He gives great reports as I’ve said and I’m rather clever, you know, I’ve no trouble grasping potions theory, but I always make sure to ask a question—”

“Why’s that Granger?”

_“Please Malfoy, stop.”_

_“Will you relax? It’s a harmless attraction, we’re all adults and our little lush here won’t remember a thing. This is the price for roping me into dragging her across town.”_

“Oh I have to ask a question. How else would I get him to pay attention to me? That’s when it happens, you know, the thing I both want most and fear most at the same time…”

“Hermione, don’t!”

“He calls on everyone one at a time, so polite yet personable, using their first names. No idea how he’s able to remember every single person’s name in the room but I have to assume it’s due to his aristocratic, pureblood upbringing. I guess some good things stuck with him from those horrid traditions. Anyway, he doesn’t even ask anyone to introduce themselves, just points at a raised hand and their name rolls right off his beautiful tongue. He’ll say ‘Valeria’ or ‘Darien’ or ‘Caroline’ or ‘Desmond’ or ‘Mikael’ or ‘Andrea’ and then he’ll point at me. Do you know what he says when he calls on me? He says ‘Granger.’ Always ‘Granger.’ ‘Granger’ forever.”

“What would you rather he do?” teased Made-4-U Malfoy.

“Well therein lies the rub! Oh just once, just one time, I want him to call me Hermione. Just say Hermione. But do you know what would happen if he did? If real Draco Malfoy called me Hermione to my face? I’m—”

“Hermione, DO NOT FINISH YOUR SENTENCE!”

“—I’m fairly certain I would climax on the spot.”

_“Oh my Godric… Malfoy please, please do not use this against her. Please just forget she ever said that.”_

Make-Believe Malfoy was gasping for air against her as he almost doubled over in laughter.

“It is rather hilarious when you think about it. Merlin, it sure feels good to get all this off my chest!”

“So, what happens after he calls you ‘Hermione’? Where does this little fantasy of yours go?” asked Manufactured Malfoy.

“Oh he’ll ask me to wait around after his presentation so we can discuss the finer points of my question. I only ask the cleverest questions, you see. And we’ll get to talking and talking and be so wrapped up in our discussion that we’ll have to be kicked out of the conference room because another meeting is set to begin. Then he’d suggest we move this conversation to my office and we’d—”

“Shag?”

_“Ow! What the hell Weasley?”_

_“Don’t be crass, you pervert!”_

_“Hey, Granger started it!”_

“—we’d discuss his presentation and of course there just wouldn’t be enough time to finish all the points we’re both trying to make because of course we’d probably disagree about something foolish and start arguing. But then he’d suggest we continue our discussion over dinner and what follows would be a proper date out and—”

“Why all this set up? Why not just ask him out?” asked the Fake Ferret.

“No can do, Mimic Malfoy. Haven’t you spotted the difference yet? The difference between you and the real Draco Malfoy?”

“Can’t say that I have. Enlighten the class,” goaded her Slytherin Simulacra.

Hermione sighed sadly. “You’re being ever so nice to me, aren’t you? Holding me up, helping me get home safely, having a conversation longer than two minutes, you’ve yet to throw an insult my way, no, you’ve been teasing me, sure, but it lacks all the usual cruelty—”

“You think him cruel? Your real Draco?”

Hermione shrugged. “Not anymore perhaps, but he certainly wouldn’t deign to touch me in this manner, not when I’m, well, me.”

“Granger, listen, he doesn’t believe in all the bloody purity nonsense. Not anymore.”

_“Oh, he doesn’t?”_

_“Fuck off, Weasley. No I don’t, all right?”_

_“Have you told her that?”_

_“I apologized to her after my trial years ago, not that it’s any of your business.”_

“No I know that, and I know he used to espouse those beliefs, but he was indoctrinated by his parents, it’s really quite unfortunate to have a childhood like that. Plus he did apologize to me, actually I think that was the longest private conversation we’ve ever had, brief and awkward as it was. That was years ago though. I forgave him, of course, I thought him rather sincere and he’s been polite to me at the Ministry when we cross paths, but I think it’s safe to say that I’m not sure he’d be quite this accommodating. I think I’m rather nothing to him, don’t you?”

“Bit harsh there, Granger, I don’t think of you as ‘nothing,’” said Mal-faux.

“Now I know you’re just a sort of automaton with his face, but let me explain this to you. I am not a stunningly attractive woman—”

“Hermione, yes you are! Don’t put yourself down that way!” said Human Ginny.

“—I’m not Gin, especially not to someone who looks like Draco Malfoy. I’ve too much hair, which is a feature he’s always hated, he used to tell me so in school. At least I’ve had my teeth fixed because that was the other attribute of mine he used to mock. No, I rather think that at worst, Draco Malfoy considers me hideous and at best, he doesn’t think of me at all.”

Hermione slumped sadly against her Draco Double. “He’d never let me get this close to him. And that’s fine, I know my worth, but it’s nice to dream you know? You’re not a human, I’m not sure you can understand the sort of desperate longing for a person you cannot have that can take hold of you. I’ll get over it I’m sure—”

_“Happy now Malfoy?”_

_“No. No, not really.”_

Hermione changed topics then, babbling about her hopes for the investigation into who spiked some of the mead at the Leaky Cauldron, while her two supports had lapsed into silence at her sides.

_“I think we’ve reached the boundary. I can Side-Along her from here.”_

_“Could I have a moment alone with her? I’ll be quick, just let me say something.”_

_“I thought you said she wouldn’t remember this?”_

_“That’s sort of the point. A few minutes, that’s all.”_

_“Fine, make it quick.”_

“—and I know that new Auror unit was just established for these types of incidents and—” Hermione felt herself being shifted and then both her arms were on her Dream Draco’s broad shoulders. He held her up easily.

“Listen, Granger. I don’t have a lot of time, but there’s something I need to say to you.”

“Oh please do, I really do enjoy your voice and your eyes are a distinct silver hue that is very pleasant to look at when you speak—”

“I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. You have no idea how much of a coward I really am. Merlin, I’m so pathetic that I can’t even admit these things to you without the guarantee that you’re going to forget it all tomorrow. I had no idea you felt that way about me. You want to know the real reason I never look twice at you? Why I avoid you at all costs? Why our interactions at work are reduced to polite nods in the hallway and indifferent conversations? Because I could never, ever deserve you. Of course I didn’t consider you romantically, how dare I? I never entertained the thought because it’s so impossible for someone like you, someone so innately good, to ever look at me and see me as someone worthy of her time. If I’d known… Granger if I’d known how you felt maybe… maybe things could be different. Fuck, I don’t know. Just… don’t think poorly of yourself because of an arsehole like me.”

“You’re not an arsehole… anymore. I do have confidence issues, I can concede that, especially when it comes to my physical appearance, but I’m working through it, you know, some days are better than others and—”

“You are beautiful. Truly, you are. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Oh, well that’s a very nice thing to say, you know your mouth is gorgeous and I stare at it a lot when you’re speaking. I never knew what a beautiful mouth you had because for most of my life it was spewing slurs at me—”

“And I’m so sorry for that. You’ve no idea how sorry.”

“—bygones and all that, we’ve already had that conversation—”

“Perhaps, but it seems I’m still hurting you even now, though unconsciously so. If I’d known you’d be at all receptive to my advances, perhaps I would have acted. But you’re not going to remember this, and the least I can do for you is keep your secret.” Mechanical Malfoy sighed sadly then pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“Aren’t you a Slytherin?” Hermione mused aloud.

“Pardon?”

“I said, aren’t you a Slytherin?”

“Last I checked that was my Hogwarts House, yes.”

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. Machine Malfoy was not very bright, his human counterpart would have figured this out by now. “Did I not just hand you the complete guide to wooing me? I not only divulged all the ways I find you attractive, but I told you exactly how you affect me! Any worthy Slytherin would take this trove of information and use it on me! Honestly, the only thing you’re missing is the itinerary for my fantasy first date with Draco Malfoy!”

“Go on then, Granger. Tell me.” Auto-Malfoy was smirking now and it was so like the Draco of her reality that her heart fluttered.

“Well, obviously I told you how to ask me to dinner and I think dinner is always a good first date idea. Somewhere fancy, too, one of those restaurants where they take your coat and refill your water after every sip! Somewhere I can wear an expensive dress and impress you with how nice I look outside of the office. I’d even try and tame my hair and—”

“What kind of food do you like?”

“Oh, I think French would be lovely! I bet real Malfoy speaks French, his mother’s family is from there originally, you know. I once looked up his family tree in the Hogwarts library because I was so fascinated by the Black family tapestry that hung in Sirius’s house and—”

“As it happens I am fluent,” boasted Mecha-Malfoy.

“Wonderful! And don’t tell anyone this, I mean it, but I absolutely loathe when men try and order for me when we’re out to dinner, but my French is rather poor so I’d let Malfoy order for me and not only that, I’d enjoy it—”

“Noted. And should I bring flowers?”

“Oh yes please, it’s been an age since a man has brought me flowers, especially before a date. I’m partial to tulips but really, anything besides daisies because I thoroughly detest daises, I think they are—”

“When does the night end? Do we go somewhere for drinks after?” questioned Mirage Malfoy.

“Hmm, depending on how well dinner went, and dessert too, we’d definitely get dessert even though I’d claim to be too full, I’d really want dessert… then I’d like to take a nice stroll and we could continue whatever illuminating academic discussion we were having over our meal and he could escort me to my door. I’d be ever so tempted to invite him inside, but it’s only the first date and even though I’m wearing my favorite pair of racy knickers, which is more of a confidence thing, really, I’m not expecting Malfoy to see them or anything—”

“Sweet Salazar, Granger, you could kill a bloke with a statement like that,” groaned her Doppelganger Draco.

“They’re a lovely blush pink color but like I said, I’d rather not shag after only one dinner and—”

“Are you amenable to a bit of snogging?”

“I am indeed! There’s this spot on my neck just below my ear and I often wonder what it would be like for him to kiss and bite that very spot while I run my fingers through that hair of his and—”

“ _Merlin’s fucking beard_ … I better go now but I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Granger. Just know that I’ll spend all night thinking of you in a tiny pair of blush-colored knickers.”

Hermione beamed as Mirror-Image Malfoy stepped away from her and winked.

“All yours Red!” he called and handed her over to Living, Breathing Ginny.

Right before she was pulled into the dark nothingness of Side-Along Apparition, a thought occurred to Hermione.

“Hey Gin, do you think George built that copy of Draco Malfoy with a working cock?”

“OH MY GODRIC HERMIONE ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?”

* * *

Hermione was certain her head was going to split clean in half. She blinked awake slowly, fighting the pain throbbing in her temples. The sun seemed too bright, her mouth too dry, the blood pounding in her ears too loud…

Ugh, just how much did she have to drink last night?

She sat up gingerly and tried to remember what happened, but found it only pained her head more. A glass of water, a pair of vials, and a slip of parchment on her nightstand caught her eye. The note left by Ginny read:

_“Good morning sunshine!_

_I imagine you’re feeling just awful on this beautiful Friday morning, and for the record, the fault lies not with me! I’ve left you a Hangover Cure and a Sober-Up, so take both straightaway. I know you’ll want to go to work today, but for the love of Merlin, please take the day off. You were dosed with a pretty strong Babbling Beverage last night and the combination with the mead you drank means you probably have some memory gaps. Not to worry, I got you to bed safely and Harry’s team is investigating the incident. Now get back to bed and Floo me later!_

_Love,_

_Gin”_

Hermione downed the two vials and felt her head clear instantly. Babbling Beverage plus alcohol eh? No wonder she’d woken up feeling like she’d been trampled by a hippogriff. She made a mental note to ask Ginny later if she’d said anything funny out loud. The combination of the potion and beer probably meant Hermione had been loudly loose-lipped towards the end of the evening.

Chuckling to herself, Hermione showered and deliberately disregarded Ginny’s advice to stay home from work today. Today was not the day to call in sick. No, today was Hermione’s favorite day of the month: it was the day of Draco Malfoy’s monthly report to the Ministry department heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 2 of 3 will be up in the next few days. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione sat primly in her seat in the conference room, her favorite quill in hand ready to jot down her detailed notes. She nodded politely to various colleagues as the rest of the department heads filed in and filled in the spaces around the large wood table.

Then at 11:00 on the dot, like he did every single month, Draco Malfoy strode confidently into the room and took his place at the front. He was precisely punctual every meeting, a quality she admired about the adult version of him. He never bothered with idle chit chat at the outset of his presentation, just quelled the room with an expectant look and launched into his report.

Today’s topic was the latest experiments of Malfoy’s department on the efficacy of long-term Polyjuice Potion. Hermione knew this had been a goal of the Ministry’s Potions Department for quite some time. According to Malfoy, they’d now succeeded in having the dose last for three hours as opposed to the standard one hour. This was a remarkable achievement and Hermione knew the Auror Office in particular would be keen for this potion to work for their undercover investigations.

Hermione tuned out on the content of Malfoy’s presentation. Being intimately acquainted with how Polyjuice worked, she didn’t need to focus on the particulars and could instead allow her mind to wander. And wander it did.

Her eyes roamed up and down Malfoy’s tall, lean form. He wore his usual all black ensemble today, his flowing robes open in the front, long frock buttoned to the base of his neck. _So many buttons_ , she thought absently. The one exception to the monochromatic scheme was wrapped around his throat: a white neck kerchief instead of a standard cravat.

Hermione sighed internally and let the pleasant sound of his voice wash over her. If she weren’t in a room full of people she’d probably be gnawing on the end of her quill. As it was, she was having enough trouble not audibly sighing as she openly ogled his handsome features. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when this silly infatuation of hers had started, and Hermione wondered idly just how long it would last. Hoping it was just a passing fancy, she vowed to keep it to herself forever. Merlin, what was she even thinking? He’d never look twice at her, not to mention all the complicated history between them.

But still… that deep timbre of his voice, the aristocratic air he gave to his articulation, the way his lips formed around the correct pronunciation of the Latin terms… there was nothing wrong with appreciating an attractive male was there? It was harmless, absolutely harmless.

When he ran his hand carelessly through his platinum hair, Hermione bit down on her bottom lip so hard it was a miracle her teeth didn’t break the skin as she watched the locks fall flawlessly back into place. Gods, she was pathetic. She shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts as Malfoy wrapped up.

“Thank you for your time. Does anyone have any questions?”

Hermione’s hand immediately shot into the air along with a half dozen others. She made sure to ask a question each month if only to have that silvery gaze locked on her for a half-second of time.

“Kareem?”

Kareem asked a rather inane question and Hermione held back a scoff. Draco answered it easily.

“Serena?”

Serena asked a question that Draco had answered not two minutes into his original speech, seriously Serena?

“Wolfgang?”

Wolfgang asked a ridiculous question about the horrible impact this new and improved Polyjuice could have should it ever reach the black market. Hermione repressed a snort with difficulty. The old codger couldn’t let a meeting go by without some sort of paranoid, hare-brained conspiracy theory making itself known.

And on and on and on it went: Hermione silently questioning the mental faculties of her contemporaries at the Ministry as they each took a turn asking patently stupid questions. Honestly, did no one pay attention? Tristan, Irina, Francisco, Marigold, Elmer, and on and on as Hermione wondered how the likes of Draco Malfoy could stand to answer such blatant idiocy with a commendably patient air.

When Delia was called upon and had the gall to ask what the standard length of time had been for normal Polyjuice, Hermione almost throttled the woman. The simpering twit asked her question in undisguised, breathless adoration and Hermione indulged in an eye roll. Delia was a married woman, for Merlin’s sake, not that she let anyone in the immediate vicinity ever forget that fact. She was the type of woman to somehow work the words “my husband” into every single conversation. Actually, Hermione had no idea what Delia’s husband was called because she was so intent on referring to him by his marital status only.

“Does that answer your question Delia?”

“Oh yes, thank you for being so thorough, Draco,” Delia praised him for slowly and methodically providing the answer to a question that a Hogwarts Second Year would know. _Too busy ogling Malfoy to pay attention, the silly cow_ , Hermione thought uncharitably then internally winced. Isn’t that exactly what she did each month? When had she become such a hypocrite?

“Any other questions?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air and she watched Draco’s eyes rove around the table before landing on her, the sole person left with a query. She was sure it was all in her mind, but time seemed to slow and then stop as Draco locked gazes with her. His intense eyes pinned her to the spot and narrowed as the corner of his mouth lifted infinitesimally; a predator recognizing its prey.

“Hermione.”

Her mind went blank.

Not “Granger?”

Not “Granger.”

Not even “Hermione?”

_Hermione._ A declarative. Her first name for the first time off his tongue and it was such a beautiful-sounding non-question. She had to repress a full-body shudder at the very sound she had longed to hear from his mouth.

Perplexingly, the other corner of his mouth lifted just a touch, and Hermione realized several things at once:

  1. She’d taken too long to respond.
  2. Other people in the room were looking around at her in mild concern.
  3. Her knickers were drenched.
  4. She’d quite forgotten her question.



“I… ummm… I… actually I’ve just realized that you sufficiently answered my question when you responded to Wolfgang. My apologies,” she offered weakly.

Draco stared at her in mild bemusement for a beat longer. “Well, if that’s all, then thank you for your time today.”

Hermione released a sigh of relief as normal chatter resumed around her and her colleagues busied themselves with filing out of the conference room. Good lord, what was wrong with her?

“Hermione,” a gentle voice called and her head snapped up at being addressed for a second time by the object of her rather distracting fantasies.

Hermione stood on shaky legs and gathered her notes and quill so as to have something to do with her hands. “Yes Malfoy?”

“Do you have a minute?” he asked politely and beckoned her over.

_Oh, I have all the time in the world and then some._

“Of course, if it really is a minute,” she said haughtily, trying to regain some semblance of control.

She approached him cautiously and stopped a few feet away, leaning back slightly to meet his gaze. Was he always this much taller than her?

“I wasn’t aware you shared Wolfgang’s concerns about black market thievery,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Bugger, he’d called her out. Well Hermione wasn’t going to take this lying down.

“It’s less about the potion itself, and more that I think some of the ingredients have the potential to affect my work. As you know, lacewing flies and boomslang skin, for example—”

“I didn’t realize the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would need to be concerned with such trifling things as lacewing flies.” He drawled and raised an eyebrow.

“Well I… yes, well, as Head of my department it’s my duty to keep abreast of all issues involving creatures big and er, small,” she lied.

“I see,” he smirked, causing Hermione to grip her notes all the tighter. “I’m curious to know which other… actually,” he frowned and checked an ornate wristwatch. “I do believe another group requires this conference room shortly. Could we continue this discussion, perhaps in your office? You work on this floor, yes?”

“I umm… Yes, I do, but umm…”

“Excellent, lead the way,” he said and gallantly gestured for her to leave first.

The entire short walk to Hermione’s office, she fought the urge to pinch herself. What exactly was happening to her right now? First he calls her by her given name and now he’s so interested in her thoughts on _lacewing flies_ of all things that he wants to extend their discussion?

As they entered her office, Hermione gestured to the chair in front of her desk, praising the heavens that she’d left her office in a neat state. She sat on the edge of her seat and tried to adopt a relaxed mien.

Malfoy closed the door behind him and Hermione’s throat went dry at the thought of being in a confined space, alone, with the object of her lecherous thoughts.

“Merlin, it’s bloody boiling in here!” he groused as he threw himself into the chair opposite her. “What do you keep it at, the center of the Earth’s crust?”

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. “If you’re so bothered by the precise temperature of my office, feel free to prop the door open.”

Malfoy waved her suggestion away with an elegant hand. “Nah, I can manage.”

That same hand went to the top buttons of his frock and Hermione couldn’t look away as he flicked one, two, three buttons open and tugged at his kerchief. He removed the silken piece of fabric, exposing a smooth expanse of pale flesh, and Hermione’s arms unfolded to grip the edges of her desk. She’d indulged in several graphic fantasies in the privacy of her bedroom involving Malfoy using that little scrap of silk to bind her hands above her head. To see it now, up close and personal, twisting in his grip, was an exquisite form of torture. Malfoy took his sweet time, carefully folding the delicate piece and tucking it neatly into his inner breast pocket.

Hermione envisioned pressing her lips to the newly revealed skin of the column of Malfoy’s throat. She felt a blush staining her cheeks and gave a small cough as she shuffled random documents on her desk.

“Right, well if you’re quite comfortable, perhaps we can return to discussing—?”

“Is that from the first law you passed?” Malfoy interrupted her and pointed to a framed piece of parchment on her wall.

“Oh, erm, yes it is.”

“Brilliant piece of legislation. Even if I disagree with it at its core, I can admit your arguments were impeccable.”

Hermione sputtered in a mix of surprise and indignation. “You’ve read it? And what do you mean you disagree with it at its core?”

Malfoy gave an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. “No offense meant, I just believe that bowtruckles can look after themselves all right.”

“Then perhaps you can explain to me why their numbers were dwindling at an exponential rate before my law went into effect?”

“No need to explain, their dwindling population was an established fact. I think your regulations against harvesting wand wood trees were too stringent and overreaching.”

“Is that so?” Hermione fumed. “For your information, the rate at which wizards were cutting down those trees did not match the demand for wands! The bowtruckles were being unnecessarily forced out of their own habitats!”

“Ah, but you forget how adaptable and vicious those little blighters can be. Relocation and establishment of a preserve would have benefited everyone, not just the bowtruckles.”

“Well luckily for me, the Wizengamot were convinced of my arguments, which as you admitted earlier, were impeccable, and furthermore—!”

Hermione was cut off by a long, pale finger held up in front of her face. Oh, the nerve of him!

“Apologies, but I need to check something,” he shook the sleeve of his robe back to glance at his watch. He stood swiftly and offered her a small smile that made her stomach flip.

“Unfortunately I have another appointment shortly which means I will have to delay hearing what was sure to be a well-reasoned and impassioned rebuttal to my point.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I got rather carried away.”

Malfoy waved her apology away. “I expect nothing less from you. In fact, I’d very much like to hear the rest of your verbal dressing-down of my pragmatic point-of-view. Are you free this evening?”

_I am free the rest of the year and beyond if this question is going where I desperately hope it’s going._

“As it happens, I do find myself with a free evening ahead of me,” she said smoothly.

“Would you care to dismantle my argument over dinner?”

He paired his casual request with a smile so genuine that Hermione was certain her knickers had melted off of her body.

“Yes,” she replied, trying not to sound too eager. “Did you have a place in mind or—?”

“Any objection to _Le Diplomat_?”

She’d kept her composure until now, but hearing Draco Malfoy offer to take her to dinner to the very restaurant she’d been pining after for months was too much and her jaw dropped. It was supposed to be the finest in French cuisine this side of the Channel but Hermione had yet to find a worthy enough excuse to drop such a significant amount of Galleons on one meal. Never mind that all her friends had less than refined palates ( _seriously, takeaway from the Leaky is not a luxury, Harry_ ), Hermione was also certain that this type of restaurant required formalwear, another strike against it in her friend group.

“You’ll be able to get a table there? Tonight? On such short notice?”

“Of course, it’s me,” he replied smugly.

“Ah yes, you always did love throwing your surname around.”

Rather than bristling at her jab, he playfully scoffed. “My surname? Please, I’ll be riding your coattails this evening. If I tell them I’m dining with _Hermione Granger_ , they’d probably lose the Minister’s reservation if I asked.”

Hermione felt her face turn red again. “Oh, I think you’re rather overblowing my status.”

“I’m not, but if that doesn’t work, I’m not above claiming that I’m actually taking Potter on this date.”

Hermione chuckled nervously. Date? Date. He’d said the word “date.”

“Would you prefer to meet at the restaurant? How does 7 sound?”

“7 is perfect,” she replied breathlessly.

“All right then. See you tonight, Hermione.” He flashed her one last charming grin before taking his leave. Once the door had clicked gently shut behind him, Hermione sank into her desk chair and fanned her face. Maybe Malfoy had a point, it was quite hot in here, wasn’t it?

Giddy with thoughts of her dinner plans, Hermione indulged the urge to tell someone about what had transpired today. She threw some Floo powder into her office grate, stuck her head in and called for Ginny.

“Ginny! You are not going to believe what just happened!”

“Hello to you too, I see someone’s feeling better! Wait, why are you in your office? I thought you skived off today, like me!”

“No, I had an important meeting I couldn’t miss. Thanks again for the potions and for seeing me home safely last night.”

Ginny waved off her gratitude. “You would have done the same and more for me, I’m sure. Do you uhh… by chance remember anything?”

“Not a thing after my third mead, but listen Ginny… I may or may not have a dinner date tonight at _Le Diplomat!_ ”

To her confusion, Ginny did not squeal in delight. Instead, she squinted at Hermione and looked skeptical.

“That’s the snooty place you’re always harping on about right? French, isn’t it?”

“It is not _snooty_ , Ginny, but yes, it is French.”

“I thought so. And your fancy mystery date is?”

Hermione couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks. “You won’t believe this, but it’s Malfoy. He asked me in my office after his monthly report.”

Ginny blanched. “Your favorite day of the month? That was today? And he asked you out afterward?”

“Yes, it was funny, honestly. He asked me to stay after so we could discuss something, but then we had to move the chat to my office. Then, of course he said something rude about my bowtruckle legislation and I just could not let it go and he—”

“Let me guess, he offered to continue the discussion over dinner?”

Hermione stared back at her friend. “Erm, yes. Oh, but I have to go now, I’m meant to meet Harry and give my statement!”

“Hermione, wait, there’s something you need to know, it’s about—”

“Later, Gin, I’m running late as it is! I’ll speak to you tomorrow!”

Hermione disconnected from the Floo, puzzled about Ginny’s odd behavior towards the end of the call. Shrugging it off, she made her way over to Harry’s office in the back of the Auror Department. As she went to knock on his door, it opened and a familiar figure strode out, colliding with her.

“Oh! Sorry Malfoy!”

To her surprise, he didn’t seem annoyed at her clumsiness, and instead grinned down at her.

“My, my, seeing you twice in one day? Perhaps I should have my tea tested for liquid luck.”

Was he… flirting with her? Was this really happening to her right now? How did her work life go from completely devoid of any meaningful interactions with Draco Malfoy to him asking her to dinner and then flirting outrageously with her?

Instead of waiting for what was sure to be a stammered, flustered response from her, Malfoy backed away slowly and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll be seeing you again, I suppose. Oh and the restaurant has a dress code, so make sure to,” his eyes raked up and down her entire frame, “dress to impress.” He offered a half-smirk and turned down the hall.

“…Hermione? Hermione!”

“Huh? What? Oh, hi Harry!”

Harry regarded her with concern. “All right there? I called your name a few times but you looked sort of frozen and your mouth was hanging open. You’re feeling all right after last night, yeah?”

Hermione shook her head, suddenly remembering why she’d come to visit Harry in the first place.

“Oh! I’m fine! Just came to give my official statement and see if you had any leads.”

Harry, as it turned out, did not have any new leads. Whoever had spiked the mead last night was quite careful, which worried him.

“I’m just glad it was Babbling Beverage and not something more sinister,” Harry sighed.

“I’m sure you’ll catch a break soon. Looks like you still have a good amount of suspects to sort through,” she gestured to the stack of parchment on his desk. “I’ll leave you to it. What was Malfoy doing in your office?”

“Oh, he was there last night too, and lucky for him, he never got dosed. He was actually quite helpful since he was sober during the time of the incident he was able to give me some more names of people he recognized.”

“Malfoy was there last night?” she asked in a high-pitched voice. _Oh please, please, tell me Ginny got me out of there before I said some embarrassing nonsense._

“Erm, yeah, he didn’t stay long and I was able to clear him last night anyway. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Hermione nodded and left Harry to his looming pile of witness statements and suspect lists. She tried to recall if she’d seen Malfoy at all before her memory lapse, but her mind came up short. Shaking the niggling doubts away, she resolved to focus on finishing the rest of her own paperwork before she could knock off for the day. She had a date to prepare for, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 3/3 will be posted in the next few days. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

As she emerged from her bathroom in her dressing gown, Hermione was startled by a sharp tapping at her window. Letting the owl in, she was astonished when it dropped a gorgeous bouquet of pink, yellow, and purple tulips on her kitchen table and flew off.

Picking up the card nestled in the midst of the flowers, she read the note with trembling hands.

_Hermione,_

_The florist put up quite the fight to get me to purchase daisies, but I must confess I balked at his ill-conceived suggestion of such a bouquet for you. For some reason, I found myself drawn to this array of tulips instead. They seemed more suited to a witch of discerning taste such as yourself. I do hope I chose correctly._

_Looking forward to our evening,_

_D.M._

She let the card drop back to the table and leaned forward to inhale the aroma of the tulips. Had she been dropped in some sort of alternate universe? One where Draco Malfoy was suddenly intent on wooing her? Well even if this all was some sort of weird, wonderful dream, Hermione was going to see it through.

Opening her top dresser drawer, her hand hesitated over her favorite pair of blush-colored lace knickers. She certainly didn’t plan on Malfoy seeing them, especially after only one dinner, but knowing she was wearing them always made her feel confident and sexy. And with how nervous and wrong-footed Malfoy had made her feel all day, Hermione would take all the confidence she could get.

Walking up to the restaurant at five minutes to 7, Hermione was relieved to see Malfoy already waiting for her. A tiny, snide voice in her head had half-convinced her that he would stand her up, that the other shoe would drop and this would turn out to be a cruel prank on his part, but thus far, that little voice had been wrong.

Speaking of wrong, it was probably very, very wrong of her to picture ripping Malfoy’s clothes off his body when said clothes probably cost more than her entire wardrobe put together. Say what you like about his character, but his sartorial choices were perfection and tonight’s suit was no exception.

“Good evening. That’s a lovely dress.”

“Well you did advise me to dress to impress.”

“Hmm, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

He punctuated the compliment by biting his lower lip and Hermione nearly swooned.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said abruptly, hoping her face wasn’t too red. “I adore tulips.”

“I’m glad to hear it. A lucky guess on my part.”

When they were seated at their table, Hermione sat back in her chair with a thoughtful look on her face. She regarded the man across from her curiously, her mind still reeling from the day’s events that had somehow led to this dinner.

“Knut for your thoughts?”

He’d caught her staring, but she wasn’t embarrassed this time. “I’m sure you could afford a Galleon for mine,” Hermione teased playfully. Her jibe earned a genuine smile from him and it took her a moment to become accustomed to the sight.

“It’s just odd, isn’t it? The two of us out to dinner?” She said as neutrally as possible.

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. “On the contrary, if you think about it, I don’t find it odd at all.”

Hermione frowned, unsure of how to decipher his cryptic comment.

“Have I made you uncomfortable? Are you worried about what people will think?” He asked.

_There_. Finally, Hermione saw a crack in the façade. All day and for the beginning of the evening Draco seemed to have her at a disadvantage. He was too self-possessed, too suave, too… _everything,_ as if he were working from a script. But his questions about her comfort betrayed a hint of vulnerability, and it was that more than anything that allowed Hermione to finally relax.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” she assured him. “And I certainly don’t care for others’ opinions about the company I keep.” She offered a small smile and finally turned her attention to the menu. Her relaxed demeanor threatened to crumble when she noticed it was entirely in French. Hermione’s grasp of the language was passable at best, and as her self-consciousness mounted at the thought of mangling the pronunciations in front of her date, Malfoy spoke up.

“You look a tad overwhelmed over there.”

“Just being indecisive.”

“Would you mind terribly if I selected something for you? I’d never presume to order for my date, but if the language barrier is too much, I’m happy to help.”

Hermione blinked and opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Oh! Umm all right, yes, that would be fine.”

_Get. It. Together._

“Any allergies? Foods you simply loathe?”

Hermione shook her head. “Nope, I’m easy… I mean,” she wanted to smack herself, “I’ve quite a broad palate.”

He smirked at her, but otherwise ignored her accidental innuendo. And when the waiter dropped by to take their order, Malfoy absolutely destroyed the state of her knickers when he conducted the whole ordering process in flawless French. Just like that, she felt at a supreme disadvantage once again. When she had a glass of wine in her hand, she brought up his presentation from earlier. Work was a safe topic, generally.

“Quite an achievement by your department, you know. The length of a Polyjuice dose hasn’t been tinkered with in decades.”

They chatted comfortably over their wine and Hermione felt her anxiety ebb. Malfoy was charming, but not overly so, and Hermione found the conversation between them settle into something more natural.

“Did you know that if you succeed your superior you’d become the youngest Potions Master in more than 200 years at the Ministry?” She said, swirling her wine around the glass.

“Funny you should mention that fact, I only just learned it myself yesterday.”

“We should get you a badge to wear,” Hermione joked and took a bite of the most succulent duck she’d ever tasted. “And you could be introduced by that title before every one of your monthly reports.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “All right, be honest. Those meetings are abominable, don’t you think?”

_They are the highlight of my entire month._

“On the contrary, I find your reports interesting and thorough. Although how you manage to keep yourself from biting off peoples’ heads I’ll never know.”

“How do you mean?”

“When Delia asked you today about the length of time for normal Polyjuice… well if I were you I probably would have snapped!”

Malfoy chuckled and Hermione decided she liked that sound very much.

“I’m sorry, don’t you mean _Mrs. Sharpton?_ ”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh my goodness, I forgot she used to insist everyone call her that! Do you even know what her husband’s name is? I swear, she’s never let that slip in the 3 years she’s been _Mrs. Sharpton_.”

Malfoy set his wine glass down and gave her a conspiratorial smirk. “As a matter of fact, I do know. I was so curious after a while that I pulled her employee file. Guess what it is.”

“Oh, it must be something truly odd. Let’s see… Beaufort?”

“Nope. Think more ancient.”

“Zeus?”

“Nope, less god-like.”

“Caligula?”

Draco barked out a laugh. “Disturbing, but closer than you’d think!”

“Nero?”

He tipped his glass to her. “Ten points to Gryffindor. Nero Sharpton.”

Hermione burst out laughing. “No wonder she keeps that hidden! Can you imagine?”

As their laughter died down, Hermione caught his silvery gaze. He was looking at her oddly, like she was something new to behold, as if they hadn’t known each other since childhood or passed each other in the Ministry halls once or twice a week for several years.

Before she could analyze it too much, he cleared his throat. “Do you have room for dessert?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly—is that Harry and Ginny?”

Malfoy’s head whipped around toward the restaurant entrance. Hermione smiled and waved, but they did not acknowledge her friendly gesture. Instead, confusing Hermione, Ginny was stalking over, looking murderous, and Harry was trailing behind her looking like he absolutely did not want to be there.

“Hi Gin! Hi Harry! What’re you—?”

“You are unbelievable Malfoy!” Ginny seethed when she reached their table. “I told you, I warned you not to use last night against her!”

“Ginny, what’s going on?” Hermione asked, but everyone ignored her.

“You’re causing a scene, Weasley, and I’ve not done anything wrong,” Malfoy asserted coolly.

“What do you call all this then?” Ginny thundered and gestured between Draco and Hermione.

“A dinner date. One you are rudely interrupting, might I add.”

“If anyone’s rude here, it’s you. I cannot believe you would stoop so low as to trick her like this.”

“It’s not a trick nor a trap nor anything else you want to accuse me of,” he said defensively.

“And here I thought you were actually a decent human after you helped me carry her back from the pub!”

Hermione’s face blanched.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on here?” she asked in a small voice and three heads turned in her direction. Malfoy’s face was impassive, Ginny’s angry, and Harry’s sheepish. Not one of them put forth an answer.

“Harry, is this related to the investigation into the Babbling Beverage?” Hermione asked calmly.

“Oh er, yeah.” He said, speaking for the first time since their odd intrusion. “Turns out the whole thing was an accident. One of the barmaids is pregnant and somehow botched the mixing of her energy-boosting potions so badly it morphed into extra strength Babbling Beverages, which she left out on the bar, intending to take them later. Apparently, the hue of the beverage mimics one of their meads, and one of the other bartenders grabbed them without thinking and served them to several people, including you. Both had knocked off for the night before we were called in, so that’s why it took so long to solve.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “So uh, no harm done and case closed and Ginny I really think we should leave.”

“No Harry!” his wife burst out. “I told you Malfoy was up to something and I was right!”

“I’m not up to anything.” Malfoy ground out.

“You really have some nerve duping Hermione like this,” growled Ginny.

“It’s none of your business if she agreed to go out with me tonight,” clipped Malfoy.

“Oh? And did she have all the facts before she agreed? I think not!”

“You should listen to your husband, you’re making a spectacle,” Malfoy drawled back. “What’s your big plan then? Going to pull up a chair and monitor our dessert course? Follow us down the street when I escort her home?”

Ginny practically snarled at him. “You are not going anywhere with Hermione until she has the full story.”

The sound of Hermione’s wand slamming onto the table made the other three jump. “When you’ve all finished discussing me like I’m not even here, perhaps one of you can tell me who I should jinx first?” She lifted her wand delicately and was rewarded with fearful faces from the rest of the group. “Now,” she rolled her wand idly in her palm, “I want answers and it seems Malfoy is in the best position to give those to me.”

“He’s just going to lie Hermione!” Ginny protested.

“Which is why he is going to be supplying me with his memory from last night,” Hermione stated simply and Malfoy glared at her.

“If you can find a Pensieve at this hour, sure Granger,” he sneered and it was so reminiscent of the Draco Malfoy of her youth that her wand twitched in her hand.

“Settle our tab then, Malfoy,” she said airily and stood. “Because I happen to own one.”

* * *

Hermione insisted Ginny and Harry go home and leave her to deal with the situation, an order Harry seemed only too happy to obey. Left alone with Malfoy, tense silence reigned as Hermione led the way to her home and through her darkened flat. She flicked her wand and at once the lights brightened the space of the living room.

“Sit here,” she ordered Malfoy tersely and pointed at her sofa. She summoned an empty vial and held it up to his face.

“Your memory. Now.” She barked.

He scowled as he placed his wand to his temple and extracted the silvery, gaseous strand for her. As she moved to walk past him with the mist-filled vial, a hand shot out to grasp her wrist.

“I meant it, Granger,” he said, sounding slightly defeated.

Her brows furrowed. “Meant what?”

Draco released her wrist and looked away from her toward the opposite wall, a clouded expression over his eyes. “The one thing I’d hoped you wouldn’t remember.”

She waited a beat to see if he would elaborate, but he remained stoically silent. Even more resolved to get her answers, she walked back to her study and closed the door. Hermione’s Pensieve was the first big purchase she’d made with her Ministry paycheck years ago. It had helped bridge the divide between her and her parents once she’d restored their memories and brought them back to England from their brief stint with alternate lives in Australia. When Hermione had found certain memories too hard to simply talk about, she let her parents see her experiences via the Pensieve. While they’d been rather angry with her initially for modifying their memories, being able to view Hermione’s war time experiences at their own pace had helped them to grasp just how dangerous Hermione’s life had been, and contextualized her role in the war.

Taking a deep breath, she uncorked Malfoy’s memory and released it into the Pensieve, ducking her head in immediately. She found herself back in the Leaky Cauldron and saw the past version of Malfoy in a booth in the corner with Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and a man she thought might be called Adrian Pucey.

They seemed to be celebrating Nott’s engagement to Daphne Greengrass, Zabini ribbing Nott about finally plucking up the courage to propose. Malfoy looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, slowly sipping his whisky every few minutes. He was a far cry from the boisterous bully who constantly required attention from the friends around him.

Eventually, a group of Aurors approached the tables and began questioning and dismissing groups of people. Malfoy was the last of his friends to be briefly questioned and he waved them off when they asked if they should wait for him. Harry cleared Malfoy almost immediately and asked if he wouldn’t mind just waiting outside for a few minutes in case they needed him again.

Malfoy exited the pub and that’s when Hermione finally saw herself in the memory. She was sitting on the ground and babbling rapidly to herself.

“Ginny was such a good friend. Good as a sister. Too bad we could not officially be sisters, but that’s life, you know? Ron and I just did not work out and that’s all right, we’re ever such good friends still. Friends are important, yes, especially friends like Ginny. I don’t have a lot of girlfriends, possibly because I have trouble connecting with women my own age, I don’t know why, it’s just always been so.”

She watched Malfoy look down at her in mild concern, then look up and down the street, but they were quite alone. He seemed resigned as he approached her where she was sat on the ground.

“Er… all right there Granger?”

Hermione wracked her brain as she watched the scene play out before her. She did not remember any of this occurring.

“Granger, can you stand? What’s wrong with you?”

The memory version of herself began laughing hysterically before shooting up to press her face very close to a confused looking Malfoy.

Hermione covered her own face in embarrassment as she heard and saw herself babble and giggle in Malfoy’s personal space. When she saw Ginny emerge from the pub and approach them, she breathed a sigh of relief. Surely Ginny would have put a stop to this.

“Hermione! There you are!” cried Ginny and tugged on her arm. “Hey Malfoy, Harry said you’re free to go.”

“Will she be all right?” Draco cast a wary glance back at Hermione, still chattering about Malfoy and for some reason, George and Fred.

“Fine, it’s just a heavy dose of Babbling Beverage.”

“Ah, that explains a lot.”

To Hermione’s horror, she watched herself stagger and was surprised when Malfoy automatically reached out with Ginny to help keep her upright.

She watched Ginny ask Malfoy for assistance, and Hermione was once again surprised by his actions when he agreed and her arm was slung around his torso. Hermione followed along the memory as the awkward group of three shuffled through Diagon Alley.

Her dosed self kept up a constant stream of nonsensical chatter as they continued along. While silly, it was all rather harmless until:

“—I don’t often go out on weeknights like this, but Ginny absolutely, positively insisted, and then she went ahead and made me tell her the one thing I swore I would never tell anyone, but I just could not hold it in anymore! It takes its toll, you know, keeping secrets and I just had to tell someone that I sort of fancy—”

“Hermione, NO!”

“—Draco Malfoy and she swore she wouldn’t tell a single soul and she didn’t even make fun of me for it and then this copy shows up and I’m so impressed at the amount of magical manipulation needed to render such an accurate imitation—”

Ginny looked askance at Hermione in horror.

“Oh sweet Merlin, Malfoy, she is going to kill me tomorrow. Why is she spouting off her innermost feelings? I thought Babbling Beverage just made you overly talkative, but she’s acting like they shoved Veritaserum down her throat!”

“So she fancies me, huh?”

Malfoy was grinning like the kneazle that got the cream and Hermione’s stomach churned in embarrassment. He’d known! The bastard had known all day and night how Hermione nursed this stupid crush on him.

As the memory progressed, her humiliation only increased. Her past self waxed poetic about Malfoy’s good looks, hair, and fashion sense, while her current self fought the urge to vomit. She’d made increasingly sexual comments about him while he grinned in amusement. She’d spewed out a ridiculous dirty limerick about riding him. All the while, she’d apparently convinced herself that it wasn’t even Malfoy escorting her home but rather a clever automaton with Malfoy’s face created by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione wanted to leave the memory and take a sabbatical to Siberia, but something rooted her to the spot, urging her to see it through no matter how mortifying. Poor Ginny was trying her best to help Hermione, but it was of no use. Malfoy only egged her on, looking increasingly smug as she divulged secret desire after secret desire.

When she revealed to the world that Draco saying her name at the monthly meeting would cause her to instantly orgasm, Hermione felt shameful tears prick her eyes. She watched memory Malfoy’s eyes widen disbelievingly while he choked and gasped on his hysterical laughter. He proceeded to question her about what would happen next, how it would play out if she invited him back to her office and then how he would ask her to dinner. Her gut feeling had been right earlier, this day and date had all been too good to be true. She’d acted like an idiotic, lust-addled fool and unknowingly played right into his hands.

Apparently it was all one big joke to Malfoy. Now that he knew of her attraction to him, he’d gone out of his way to use it against her, effectively humiliating her. How amusing this must have been for him, having the infamous Mudblood confess her feelings so he could manipulate her reactions the next day for a laugh. Hermione never felt more naïve in her entire life. Of course Draco Malfoy would never be interested in her romantically, this was nothing but a cruel prank. Thinking she’d seen quite enough, Hermione decided to exit the memory, but a shift in tone stopped her.

Memory Hermione sighed sadly. “You’re being ever so nice to me, aren’t you? Holding me up, helping me get home safely, having a conversation longer than two minutes, you’ve yet to throw an insult my way, no, you’ve been teasing me, sure, but it lacks all the usual cruelty—”

Malfoy frowned and looked down at her. “You think him cruel? Your real Draco?”

Hermione shrugged. “Not anymore perhaps, but he certainly wouldn’t deign to touch me in this manner, not when I’m, well, me.”

She saw Malfoy’s face fall a bit. “Granger, listen, he doesn’t believe in all the bloody purity nonsense. Not anymore.”

All teasing was gone from his tone now, he sounded and looked genuinely repentant. Babbling Hermione seemed dejected as well. “—I forgave him, of course, I thought him rather sincere, but I think it’s safe to say that I’m not sure he’d be quite this accommodating. I think I’m rather nothing to him, don’t you?”

“Bit harsh there, Granger, I don’t think of you as ‘nothing,’” said Malfoy, lips pursed.

“Now I know you’re just a sort of automaton with his face, but let me explain this to you. I am not a stunningly attractive woman—”

“Hermione, yes you are! Don’t put yourself down that way!” cried Ginny.

“—I’m not Gin, especially not to someone who looks like Draco Malfoy. I’ve too much hair, which is a feature he’s always hated, he used to tell me so in school. At least I’ve had my teeth fixed because that was the other attribute of mine he used to mock. No, I rather think that at worst, Draco Malfoy considers me hideous and at best, he doesn’t think of me at all.”

Malfoy was peering down at her, and if Hermione was reading his countenance correctly, his expression was rooted in guilt and shame.

Memory Hermione slumped sadly against Draco. “He’d never let me get this close to him. And that’s fine, I know my worth, but it’s nice to dream you know? You’re not a human, I’m not sure you can understand the sort of desperate longing for a person you cannot have that can take hold of you. I’ll get over it I’m sure—”

“Happy now Malfoy?” asked Ginny harshly.

“No. No, not really.” He muttered darkly, sounding conflicted.

The trio had reached the apparition point, and to Hermione’s surprise, Draco requested a moment alone with her and she watched Ginny step just out of earshot. He held Hermione up and looked into her glazed-over eyes.

“I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. You have no idea how much of a coward I really am. Merlin, I’m so pathetic that I can’t even admit these things to you without the guarantee that you’re going to forget it all tomorrow. I had no idea you felt that way about me. You want to know the real reason I never look twice at you? Why I avoid you at all costs? Why our interactions at work are reduced to polite nods in the hallway and indifferent conversations? Because I could never, ever deserve you. Of course I didn’t consider you romantically, how dare I? I never entertained the thought because it’s so impossible for someone like you, someone so innately good, to ever look at me and see me as someone worthy of her time. If I’d known… Granger if I’d known how you felt maybe… maybe things could be different. Fuck, I don’t know. Just… don’t think poorly of yourself because of an arsehole like me.”

It was the most unadulterated honesty she’d ever heard from him. Puzzled by his uncharacteristic forthrightness, she then realized he’d said all that under the assumption that she would forget his revealing, heartfelt statement. Malfoy’s last words from when he grabbed her wrist in her living room suddenly floated back to her: _I meant it Granger… the one thing I’d hoped you wouldn’t remember._

“You are beautiful. Truly, you are. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

The sincerity in his eyes and voice as he said this to her drugged form moved Hermione to tears again. Her babbling self barely acknowledged the compliment.

“Oh, well that’s a very nice thing to say, you know your mouth is gorgeous and I stare at it a lot when you’re speaking. I never knew what a beautiful mouth you had because for most of my life it was spewing slurs at me—”

“And I’m so sorry for that. You’ve no idea how sorry.”

“—bygones and all that, we’ve already had that conversation—”

“Perhaps, but it seems I’m still hurting you even now, though unconsciously so. If I’d known you’d be at all receptive to my advances, perhaps I would have acted. But you’re not going to remember this, and the least I can do for you is keep your secret.” Malfoy sighed sadly then pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried in vain to remember the feel of his lips against her cheek. His kiss had looked so soft, and she cursed the irritating combination of alcohol and Babbling Beverage that had caused her to lose this tender moment in her own mind.

Just as she figured the memory was at an end, she heard her own voice call out for Malfoy again.

“Aren’t you a Slytherin?”

“Pardon?” he asked, confused.

Her past self seemed irritated at having to repeat herself. “I said, aren’t you a Slytherin?”

“Last I checked that was my Hogwarts House, yes.”

Memory Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. “Did I not just hand you the complete guide to wooing me? I not only divulged all the ways I find you attractive, but I told you exactly how you affect me! Any worthy Slytherin would take this trove of information and use it on me! Honestly, the only thing you’re missing is the itinerary for my fantasy first date with Draco Malfoy!”

“Go on then, Granger. Tell me.”

Tell him she did. Hermione went wide-eyed as she realized what had happened. _Did I not just hand you the complete guide to wooing me?_

He’d listened to her. Hadn’t he done exactly that? Hermione thought back to their dinner tonight when she’d felt at a disadvantage. Her instincts had told her it was as if Malfoy was working from a script and she’d been right all along. It was _her_ script, the precise road map to securing a successful date with her and he’d followed it to the letter.

He’d called her by name, engaged in a discussion with her, started a silly argument, flaunted that stupidly sexy kerchief, asked her to dinner, sent her flowers, taken her to a posh restaurant…

Was it slightly underhanded? Absolutely. But before she’d encouraged him, hadn’t he been prepared to keep her secret to himself? If he’d truly wanted some sort of petty revenge on her, wouldn’t he have flaunted this cruelly the next day? Rubbed it in her friends’ faces and hers? Hermione couldn’t remember any other suitor ever going to such lengths to give her exactly what she’d asked for. Perhaps she’d severely underestimated the maturity of Draco Malfoy.

Memory Hermione was relentless. “…I’d be ever so tempted to invite him inside, but it’s only the first date and even though I’m wearing my favorite pair of racy knickers, which is more of a confidence thing, really, I’m not expecting Malfoy to see them or anything—”

“Sweet Salazar, Granger, you could kill a bloke with a statement like that,” groaned Draco.

“They’re a lovely blush pink color but like I said, I’d rather not shag after only one dinner and—”

Hermione saw his throat bob and jaw clench. “Are you amenable to a bit of snogging?”

“I am indeed! There’s this spot on my neck just below my ear and I often wonder what it would be like for him to kiss and bite that very spot while I run my fingers through that hair of his and—”

Draco’s eyes widened and she noticed his grip tighten on her waist.

“ _Merlin’s fucking beard_ … I better go now but I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Granger. Just know that I’ll spend all night thinking of you in a tiny pair of blush-colored knickers.”

Her past self beamed as he stepped away from her and winked. “All yours Red!” he called and handed her over to Ginny.

The memory ended then, and Hermione found herself back in her study. Taking a few calming breaths, she sank into her desk chair, mind whirring. Draco hadn’t been completely honest with her, but then, Ginny hadn’t either. Both clearly had their reasons: Ginny to protect her from feeling embarrassed, Draco to gain her favor.

But was it to gain her favor? How did he truly feel about Hermione? She realized with a start that she didn’t really know the man sitting in her living room at all. Her crush was borne of lust; a purely physical attraction on her part that she’d hoped would one day dissipate. But before Ginny and Harry had crashed the date, hadn’t she felt a connection with him? In his own way, she deduced, Malfoy had put himself out there. He’d taken advantage of the information, not for mean-spirited purposes, but at Hermione’s own urging to secure a night out with her, possibly using it as an in to get to know her better.

With new resolve, Hermione walked back to the living room to find Draco still seated on the couch. His shoulders were taut, his entire body tense, but his face remained impassive. He didn’t say anything as she approached and sat down next to him, but he seemed a man waiting for the axe to fall.

She turned to him and asked, “So did you really do it?”

“Do what?”

“Did you really spend all night thinking about me in my blush-colored knickers?”

A slow grin spread across his face.

“I wouldn’t say all night,” his expression became wolfish. “More like once last night, once this morning, and once more before our date.”

Hermione leaned closer and brought her face inches from his. “I’m still amenable to a bit of snogging if you are.”

“Gods, yes, I want to test out that spot on your neck you mentioned,” he said hoarsely and gently cupped her face. The kiss was tentative and sweet, Hermione relishing in the fact that they were now on even ground. He had no more advantages over her, his hand had been played. She smiled against his lips and pressed her chest against his. Draco traced his tongue along the seam of her lips and she granted him entrance briefly to taste one another fully before he pulled back. She braced her hands on his shoulders as he peppered soft kisses along her jaw before fulfilling her wish and nipping at the skin just beneath her ear. She arched into him and indulged her whim to rake her hands through his hair as he continued his tender assault to the flesh of her neck.

“As good as you imagined?” he murmured teasingly in her ear.

“Better,” she said throatily and sat back to look questioningly at him.

“What would you say to dinner tomorrow night? Get to know each other properly.”

“You’re on, Granger.” He stood and extended his hand to help her up.

“I suppose there’s no chance of seeing those infamous knickers in person tonight, is there?” Draco said cheekily as she walked him to her door. She playfully swatted his arm.

“Prat. No, not tonight, I’m afraid. Your memory gave me a lot to think about.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she grinned mischievously. “I think I have an excellent new product pitch for George. Are you more partial to Magical Malfoy or Decoy Draco?”

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave this a read! The next D/Hr story I want to post is the novel-length piece, but it’s not quite finished yet (pushing 250K words) and I’d prefer to have it mostly complete before I start putting chapters up. In the meantime, happy writing and reading to you all and stay safe and healthy!


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